Fateless Violation
by mcrshank
Summary: It's been four years since the Harmons' deaths. Many families have come and gone, scared of the ghosts in the house. But what about the tainted love that was held inside these endless walls? Rediscover the love of Tate and Violet in Fatless Violation.
1. Chapter 1  Darkness

The sky was clear, the cloudless L.A sky stared at me right in the eyes, it mocked me, it slapped me with the freedom it had and stared at me as I lay prisoner of this brick eternal cell. It'd been four years now, since my life had ended in this place, four years, two of which I had spent hidden in my room. I hadn't left unless my mother wanted to talk. Or unless we had to scare off a new potential owner. It was an endless loop. A loop that was sure to end now that the word of "hunted house" roamed around the world when it came to this place. I could see the birds flying away from one of the trees in the garden. Their wings spreading wide as they propelled themselves onto the sky; flying away from the craziness of this place. The darkness that lurked even out of the shadows in this house. _They can fly away when things go crazy_ the shadow of the memory of Tate's voice echoed in my head, reminding me once again that he was gone. That **I had send him away. **I rolled to lie on my back, the dilated pupils of my eyes stared into the ceiling and its white endlessness. _How could you?_ A little voice asked inside my head. A voice that had been talking to me since the day I said goodbye. _You selfless bastard_, it repeated.

It was moments like these when I wished Tate hadn't done what he did. When I wished it'd been all a bad dream, and... If not alive, I was at least alone with Tate. My parents gone, both of them, free of this darkened endless place. Tate... Innocent. Clueless, just how I believed he'd been. It was strange, how I had forgiven him, even if it wasn't my crime to forgive, when I found out about the Westfield massacre. How easily my heart changed from fear to pure love. Or at least that's what I thought it was. It'd been easy to convince myself that he had changed. That he wasn't a murderer anymore. That his crime had started and ended with the death of those teenagers. _The Dead Breakfast Club_ a mocking memory shone in my head.

But reality was... It hadn't. He had killed Chad and Patrick. Without doubting it he'd raped my mother... And the fact that she'd died giving birth to _his_ son was his fault too. It had to be. It was. A frown crossed my forehead. I could still feel bile rising in my throat at the very thought of him and my mother in bed. It was wrong. Very wrong; sick, even. I mean to think my own _mother_ had given birth to my boyfriend's son... _ex-boyfriend_ that annoying voice reminded me from the deepest parts of my mind. Well, of course ex-boyfriend, I thought in response, he's a psycho. _But you love him_ the voice of my subconscious said again. "Ugh" He raped my mother. End of the story.

"Gross" I said out loud. My own voice pulling me out of my dark-filled reverie, all my senses worked again and I could hear the loud echo of The Kinks' "Sunny Afternoon" isolate me from everyone in the house. Creating a caring bubble around me as the music slipped from my earphones to my ears. Even in death music was still an escape. An escape I'd discovered too late. The room was cold, as it always was, but even like that I hadn't left the room in about... A long while. Exactly how long was unknown to me. Time passed endlessly around me. And an eternity of hell faced me every time I looked. Minutes seemed like hours, hours seemed like days.

But I had seen the brightness of the sun disappear a couple of times through those glassy windows. Maybe it had been days. I felt like I hadn't left this room in an eternity. Yet there was more endlessness right in front of me. Fucking ironic, isn't it? To be honest I didn't want to get up. I wanted to just... Stay here. Forever hidden, forever watched. Like a cat inside a shelter's cell. Because that's how I felt. I felt like a pair of deep brown, almost black eyes were watching me from the shadows of my room. Hiding somewhere where they couldn't be seen. I was really losing my shit this time.

I felt safe when I knew Tate was watching. Or when I _thought_ I knew he was watching. It also made me mad. It angered me to know I gave so much thought to the fact that he could be watching. It was wrong. And sick. How could I know if I really loved him? Really? Ever since that day... _The day when I killed myself_.

I groaned at the thought and sat up on my bed. Well, ever since that day I had been crying a lot more, any little thing made me want to cry. Any small sad or angry thing made my eyes want to spill those unshed dead tears, and weeks after my unknown death, Tate had given me a proper reason. When he showed me my rotten corpse he'd said I'd died crying. _Makes sense_ I thought. That's why I cried so much now. I actually wanted to curl up in a ball and cry _now_. But then... I'd also died thinking I loved Tate. Did that mean that what I thought was love now was only the ghost of what I thought was love when I was alive? Or was it real? I knew I had forever, and forever was a long time. Even in a house as big as this one... I knew I couldn't avoid him forever. I had sent him away, but that didn't mean he'd be gone forever. He couldn't. He was pretty much a huge part of the darkness that roamed in this house.

So what could I do? I couldn't hide forever. Just like he couldn't stay away forever. Just like we were stuck here forever. My eyes shifted to look at the door of what had been my room for all this time. I guess it was ironic that this same room had been his. And not only that, it was also the room he _died_ in. The music in my earphones changed, and Carina Round's voice echoed in a harmonious voice in my ears. I needed to get out of here. The room at least, I needed to roam around the house and hide somewhere else. Maybe I'd be morbid and go on to that dirty crawlspace where the remains of what once was my body lied.

Yeah... that was actually an okay idea. And it wasn't strange either. Really, sometimes I could catch that whore Hayden standing on the gazebo where she said her body was buried. Even Moira did that sometimes. Of course, by now my body was nothing but bones and clothes. And I had to admit it was ironic that all I could think now whenever I thought of me being dead was how much I loved that sweater I died in, and how it was horrible that I didn't have the guts to take that off from my rotting body.

I stood up from the bed, the iPod secure in my hands as I exited the room. I had to admit the house had a somber tone to it, now more than ever. Maybe it was because no more living people would enter unless it was on a dare to see if the house really was haunted. It was amusing to see their faces when they got scared when the twins, Troy and Brian scared them. The wood creaked under my feel as I walked calmly the hallway of the house that led me to the stairs, and as I walked I remembered that one year that I had spent out and about in the house. I had met every ghost that ever hid here, Troy and Brian were my favourite. They were funny and were always trying to prank someone. Of course, I never expressed my amusement, they would only turn against me and take me as their next prank-ing target . But it was funny to see Hayden getting pissed at them when they threw tomatoes and fruit, previously purchased by themselves on the previews Halloween, at her. Or even more funny was seeing my mom trying to get them to behave. Please, if they had died of curiosity and destruction, they wouldn't behave _now_ that they were dead.

Then there was Nora, she cried a lot. And she was the most confusing of all the ghosts, there were times where she thought I was alive, when she asked me what I had done to her house, and even worse, when she asked me where her baby was. Those were the times when I'd just turn the other way and ignore her. But there were other times where she'd be kind and talk to me for a while. She was nice, maybe one of the purest souls in this house after Moira. Well... at least that's what I thought until my mom told me how Nora'd tried to steal her baby... my actual brother, not the one fathered by my ex-boyfriend. And with Nora there came Charles... now he was the one I avoided a lot, especially when I went into the basement, like right now.

He was maybe one of the two ghosts that freaked me out a little. Charles was always asking me if I'd seen any dead bodies around, cats, rats or whatever animal, just so that he could dissect them. The craziest shit was when he asked me if I could let him dissect my body. Of course I said no. It was crazy, he was crazy. And I told him, obviously. Not even in his dreams.

The creaking of the wooden stairs under my weight echoed around me, I felt like the house was alone, but I knew better, probably all the ghosts were hiding somewhere. _Thank fuck for that_. I didn't feel like facing anyone today. Not even my own mother. I headed right toward that small room that had the wooden rotting and breaking door. I found it a weird mirror of what hid inside it. I took the flashlight that I'd hidden behind a pile of wood a while ago and moved. I was reaching toward the chair in the room to climb over to the crawlspace when out from the shadows the shadowy figure of a red rubber ball rolled toward my feet from the darkness behind me. I looked back, my hand resting softly on the edge of the backrest of the old chair as my eyes wondered in the darkness. Beaou. He was _the_ purest soul in the house. I didn't exactly know his story, apart from what Tate had once told me about him. He was Tate's brother, and all he did was roll his little red rubber ball toward people. It seemed relaxing to play with him... sometimes...

"Not now, Beaou. Later." I couldn't see him. I never could. Well... never except for that one time he _had_ come out. But this was not my goal today. The rubber ball stayed on the floor untouched as shaky digits opened the wooden door that was eye-level with me. The stench... _Ugh_. I couldn't believe how even after four years the smell was still somewhat strong. Not as strong as the first time I saw it. It smelled disgusting, rotten eggs and rotten cheese where only a couple of ways to describe it. But up I went. I knew the way by hear now, not because I had come here often, because I hadn't, but because I never could take that sight away from my mind. Let alone the way there.

I could hear Beaou's groan of disappointment as I closed the door behind me. I placed the still resounding iPod in my sweater pocket and pushed myself forward in the dirty crawlspace, letting the faint light of the old flashlight illuminate the small space in front of me. The dirt felt as if one layer of sand had been sprayed inside this place under my hands, it was strange, and it made me want to sneeze, so as the dirt lifted with my movements, I did. The sound echoed around me and I thought I heard a gasp somewhere near. I frowned. I was really close now, I could see the old dirty rope that had scared me that first time, and then I stopped.

All I could see at first was the outline of his body against the faint light of the flashlight. He didn't move, he stayed sitting there as if he hadn't heard me. As if he were hypnotised by what his eyes were surely looking at. But then I realised his body was tense, it had been his the gasp I'd heard before. He knew it was me. Yet he didn't leave. "What are you doing here?" I asked, the tone of my voice coming colder than I truly intended it to.

"I came here to see you, Violet." Tate's voice said, breaking slowly between words as if his voice hadn't been used in a very long time. And it hadn't. He had been here all this time.

To Be Continued.


	2. Chapter 2 Hope

I turned my head slowly, the glorious echo of her voice sounding more real than it had in a very long time. I had heard her inside my head. Whispering those words I knew she would never say. One thing she had said before the dreading words that had sent me to my darkened destiny. _I love you, Tate. _She had said. And I heard those words as a loop inside my tainted mind. Again and again wishing she were here to tell me now. And now here she was. Talking to me, here; where it was the last place I thought I'd ever find her. "I'm sorry" I said, my voice cracking as it sounded for the first time in what felt like an eternity. Four of the worst years of the time I've spent stuck in this house. I'd seen many things happen here, I'd made many things happen too. And I'd never felt bothered by any of it. Not until she really came into my... death.

I could remember the way I felt, like I couldn't control what I was doing when I killed Chad and Patrick... the way my dead heart jumped into a kick start when I felt Chad's neck's bones breaking under my grasp. Or, the way the sight of the flesh of Patrick's ass shredding before my very eyes seemed great and even somewhat appealing. I didn't feel like myself. I couldn't even really remember some stuff. Details... Fuck... Even now I could feel the inexistent adrenaline pumping through my dead veins as the blurred and faint memories of the murders filled my mind. It was all a blur now, I could remember doing all that for the one and only motherly figure I really ever had.

Nora.

She'd been so nice to me. So... motherly. Unlike that cocksucker, Constance. Even thinking about that _now_ made me want to kill her. She didn't care shit about her children that was obvious, but since I was stuck in this shithole, I couldn't exactly kill her here; she'd only be stuck here forever as well. That'd be even more of a hell than what was hell to me now. The reason why I hadn't killed her some Halloween? Addie. I wouldn't be able to see my sister if _Constance _were dead. Addie'd be taken to an orphanage or somewhere away from here, and... Well... I couldn't have that.

Just now I realised how quiet we were, Violet and I. I had spoken, and she just stared. She had moved, though. She was now sitting against the wall, and I sat motionless with my feet hanging down to the dusty hole where Violet's rotting body lied. Bones and flesh that had once loved me. That once relied on me for safety. That I had pushed away. I'd hidden in shadow filled spaces so that she would never see me. Allowing my eyes that which was prohibited for my full self. I would spy on Violet, watch her sleep, like old times. I'd watch her work on her computer. Any of those little things were beautiful to me, even if they were the only thing I could witness. Keeping quiet in the darkness so that she didn't know I was there. So that she didn't send me away again like I knew she would if she ever saw me again.

I didn't blame her. I'd done horrible things, some things I couldn't even... _Why would I do that?... _Some things were so blurry. "I'm sorry, Vi-"

"Don't" She said, interrupting me. I closed my eyes and felt the tears starting to build up once again. And I just waited, shrinking to the side, holding myself to the edge of the wooden ground, waiting for those words that would send me into yet another dark void of nothingness. And I waited... and waited... "What are you doing?" the echo of her voice, the voice I'd missed hearing, resounded around the dust-filled crawlspace and reached me; filled me, making me open my eyes. Violet was sitting there, with the smallest of frowns crossing her forehead's silk-like skin; her dainty arms were wrapped around her own legs as her clear eyes stared at me, making me feel utterly complete and in need to protect her, to stand by her side and kill anyone who stood even one inch nearer than they should.

"Aren't you going to send me away?" I heard myself saying. Even I could hear the uncertainty in my own voice. I kept unmoving as I saw Violet's face change. To anyone who didn't know her, her features changed almost close to nothing, but for me, they changed a lot. She relaxed, and I could swear I could see the faintest hint of a shine crossing her eyes, a glimmer that I'd wished I'd seen sooner than today. Sometime during those four hell filled years without her. Without one word coming from her beautiful delicious mouth; not toward me at least. Without a kiss from her soft, warm, (even in death they were warm) lips. Without a touch from her soft gentle skin.

"No" She said. And I thought I had hallucinated. This was another hallucination. It had to be, in all my hallucinations she'd say she loved me and hug me, her skin was cold, though, and I couldn't feel it. Not really, because it wasn't ever her.

"What?" I said, unsure of what to do.

"I said no." I blinked. She looked away, and I couldn't stop the wish to see her beautiful eyes looking at me once more from crossing my mind. "Now shut up and stop moving. I'm just tired of being alone" Her voice wasn't the tranquil understanding voice that had once spoken to me. It was cold. I could hear a hint of anger coming a bit from her voice. I wouldn't expect less. This, alone... I remained where I was. I didn't move, just like she told me to. And I didn't know if this was real, or just another annoying game from my mind. But even if it was, this was all I had left. The memory of her, and the anger, making me want to do worse than hide, an anger that made me loose myself into whatever it was that I'd been before Violet.

But above all. The fact that Violet didn't send me away for once, gave me something I hadn't felt since the day I'd told Violet she was dead, that feeling when she accepted it all somehow and smiled, even if faintly, at the thought of being with me forever, a feeling that I hadn't really known existed until the day I saw Violet...

**HOPE**

To Be Continued.


	3. Chapter 3 Guilt

I could feel his eyes on me as the soft murmur of the music echoed around the darkened place, coming from the earphones that I'd gently placed in front of me. I could see he knew me well. But I couldn't help but feel hurt at the way his features changed when I told him to stop talking. He had shrunk to the side and closed his eyes; I could see by the way he moved that he knew I was going to send him away... And I was. But this time, I couldn't bring myself to say the words. I wanted to. I felt sick and wrong being with him. But that annoying deep little part of me felt safe once more. It's like I couldn't help how I felt, and maybe I couldn't. But the same vain question echoed inside my mind: Was what I felt real? Or just a ghost of my feelings when I was alive? My eyes shifted to the hollow space behind Tate. The space where the last remains of my body were. As many different questions reigned me once more. The same questions that haunted me whenever I was alone: What would I be doing now? Would I be happy? Would my parents be happy? They were questions I didn't want to think of. Simply things that, like any other thing, made me want to crawl into my bed and cry.

The silence became heavy between Tate and me. And I knew it was wrong to not say anything, there were so many things that had to be said but for some reason I couldn't bring myself to voice them. But I also didn't want to be quiet. Not when all those haunting questions kept repeating in my head like an endless loop. "How long have you been here?" I said to my own surprise. My voice coming out as a tired sound.

"Long." He said after a moment of silence. I could hear the hesitation in his voice as well; as if he thought I'd be upset if he spoke. But I couldn't stop the calm feeling overwhelm me when he continued speaking. I didn't realise I'd been staring at him until he spoke once more. "I'm sorry." He said "I know it's not cool or anything, but I wanted to stay away, just like you told me. But I still wanted to see you."

"What? Like those times when you'd hide in the shadows of my room and stalk me like a complete creep?" My words were harsh, but I still knew they were true. And I felt the hint of a smirk cross my lips when he turned to look at me. I could see the surprise in his eyes even in the faint light of the flashlight. His face shifted in a way that reminded me of a kid that was busted eating the last cookie in the jar. Innocent to an extent. His eyes glimmered with what I realised were fresh tears. He'd been crying. Shit. I looked away. "Yeah. I know. I didn't see you, but I knew you were there." _Or at least hoped you were there_ I completed in my mind.

Silence.

Holy shit, maybe I should've told him to keep talking. It's not like I hadn't wished, even deep inside, to see him now and again. Hell, he was the reason I was stuck in this shithole in the first place. And he was also the only one who really even began to understand me in this house. But I didn't know if I could look over the fact that he did all those terrible things. No, the one thing that repulsed me to the point of wanting to vomint everytime I thought of that kid living right next to us. My brother and in a very sick weird way my nephew as well... Yeah, there was the bile feeling again. Gross. My mother was dead because of him. Was I really supposed to- "Is that Nirvana?" Tate's voice took me away from my darkened reverie.

"What?" Such a stupid question; I'd heard him just fine. Suddenly the music stopped being only background for me as I realised "Something In The Way" was playing in a soft tone from the earphones in the wooden floor. Busted. I had taken on listening to Nirvana (more often than before) since the day I told him to go away. They were good, and... And they always reminded me of Tate.

"In your... IPod. It's Nirvana." I could feel his eyes on me once again, and I could feel that overwhelming sense of warmness that always accompanied it. A soft small smile crossed my lips as I heard that pause he always made whenever we talked about the technology of the "now" IPods. I bet he was wondering if he was saying it correctly. _I miss you. So much. _I lifted my gaze once more, allowing myself to stare into his eyes, the light from the flashlight making them look black instead of brown. That alone sent another warm wave inside my body. But brought the aware feeling back as well. That's how it always was with Tate. Warm, but careful. Adrenaline filled. Even in my dead state.

"... Yeah." The word sounded more like a question as I looked into the glimmer of his eyes. And again he looked surprised. But I could see, as clear as I could with that dim light, how a smile crossed his lips. Relief? If he really had been watching he'd know I'd been missing him all along. God, I sounded like cheap soap opera reality show bullshit. "They're good." I said toward him as if he needed reassurance. My voice surprising me when it came a bit louder than the raspy tone I've been using all this time. "They don't suck, Langdon. You taught me that." the smirk was back. I couldn't even believe I was being nice to him right now. It's as if these past years of me ignoring him hadn't even happened. As if I wasn't mad at him. As if I'd forgiven him.

Shit.

It felt weird. Yet right. To call myself a mess would be to put it lightly. Losing my shit is one thing. This? I didn't even know what to call _this_.

To Be Continued.


	4. Chapter 4 Coldness

"Yeah, that's true." I said in the calmest tone my voice could allow me to show. But I knew I was smiling. How couldn't I? It was the first time in years that we'd crossed paths and Violet didn't send me away. Wasn't that always a good sign? It also seemed like Violet knew I'd been seeing her from the darkness. Yet she didn't seem to mind. She knew I was there.. "You've never been alone, Vi" I spoke the truth. Out loud. "You never will be." That was a good thing, right? Saying what I thought was a good thing... Right? That's why I couldn't understand the reason for Violet's frown, the way the glint in her eyes became cold, dark even, something I had never seen in Violet before. And even worse the coldness of her voice toward me when she spoke.

"I don't want to talk about it." she said. And it felt like I'd been punched right on the stomach. I leaned back again, feeling like what I imagined an animal in training would feel like right before its master used the whip against it. You know? Helpless and wrong; Feelings that had been known to me only after Violet stopped talking to me. But when she didn't say anything again I allowed my eyes to look at the beauty of her features, the shadows giving her the calmest of looks, but I knew better. I could see the defensive look in her eyes, the way her dilated pupils threatened as if they spoke for her saying "I can take care of myself". It was a look she used often. But not toward me. She was looking at me as if she didn't know me. She was looking at me as if I were a stranger.

"I'm sorry." That's all I could say, and I could feel the tears starting to form again. I was sorry for disappointing her, I was sorry for hurting her. I loved her, I still do, and no one should even hurt the people they love. No one. Not ever. I deserved to be ignored.

"Yeah." I couldn't get used to the unusual coldness of her voice toward me. Not even when she first sent me away had this come to be. Not even when she finally said goodbye. Not ever. And now it was.

I wanted to explain to her, I wanted to let her know how much she had changed me. What she meant to me, how I loved her more than anything in this world. I know that probably couldn't mean much coming from a fucked up murderous dead psychopath, but I still wanted her to know. "Can I... Can I explain?" I heard myself say. I just wanted her to know.

I heard shifting on the wooden floor and then a click, the music that had been coming from the little earplugs had stopped. I lifted my eyes to see what was going on. Violet had stood up and her arms were crossed across her chest in that stance she always made. I'd ruined it. "I said, I don't want to talk about it, Tate." she said. And even in that tone, hearing her voice saying my name made what once had been an alive beating heart that stopped for the contact of so many bullets across my chest, beat again. But then she turned to leave, leaving behind only the sounds of her feet and hands crawling their way out of this place. I knew I'd missed her, but now it's like I missed her even more, and I didn't think this hell could be worse. But now it had gotten worse.

It was easy for me to know what she was thinking, at least before she sent me away to this broken and darkened reverie that I didn't seem to be able to escape from. _You have to pay for what you've done._ The words rung in my head, her voice sad, angry, disappointed and broken. Betrayed. _I love you, Tate. But I can't forgive you_. I could feel the tears that had starting to form spill down my cheeks now in a silent trail. "VIOLET!" I heard myself yell, the memory as fresh as if had just come to pass. Her absence as painful as a fresh cut wound. "I NEED YOU!" But she didn't come back. Of course she didn't come back.

What was this feeling? A feeling I got at the very bottom of my stomach, I felt like I couldn't breathe, like I was dying. Again. But that's not what was happening. Was this regret? Fuck. I knew I regretted everything bad I'd done after I met Violet. But I'd never felt this before her. Regret. Not even when I died trying to speak when that nosy cop asked me why I'd done whatever it is I'd done. _Murderer_. It's like I could hear every little existing voice in this house whisper that to me. Fucking details. I didn't know what I'd done; no, not exactly. I knew but I didn't remember... Fucking regret. It hurt. Violet didn't want anything to do with me. It seemed like she never would... She'd never forgive me. Never.

The tears dropped in a hot journey down my cheeks, and my first, in a fit of anger, balled and painfully made contact with the old wood, making a small rupture. I didn't mind the pain, I deserved it. More than this. I deserved to be killed over and over. _If only she let me explain_. I thought over an over. No. She had to forgive me one day, I didn't know when. But I'd make her see. She had to forgive me. I allowed the tears to fall freely.

And somewhere in the house, I could swear I heard the echo of the sorrowful crying that always broke my heart. That made me remember what I had done. That made me hurt as if salt had been spilt on my wounds. Invisible wounds. The sound that made me wish I could take it all back. The sound that always made me wish... That I had her back.

That sound... The heartbroken sobbing of my Violet.

To Be Continued.


	5. Chapter 5 Promises

A promise. Something I had said years ago under the influence of what was probably just the ghost of young love. That was it. After my talk with Tate, two days ago, I felt that overwhelming sense of anger and sadness that made me miss the sharpness of my blades. Who did he think he was? Making me promise I wouldn't do it again. Of course at the moment I'd been lost in the alluring idea of his innocence. So I'd accepted. But now I regretted it.

I'd been sitting on my bed for a long time only staring at the toiletry bag that held the small black box where my old blades hid. I'd been considering. Placing the thin line against breakable skin; even if I was already dead. It wasn't death I was looking. It was freedom. Distraction. Finally, after what felt like forever, I stood up, taking the few steps that led me to the bathroom; the silver toiletry bag in my hands. My thoughts? Too jumbled to make sense of. Too overwhelming. But that sting... It felt so inviting. The running of fresh warm blood tickling unharmed skin on its trail down to the sink. Warmth. _Distraction from him_ the little voice started talking again. Seeing him once and talking to him once didn't kill of that stupid voice. Ironic. It was created in the Murder House, if it died it would only stay there forever. _You got that right_the annoying voice answered. "Shut up." I whispered as I entered the washroom, really, if I hadn't lost it before... Now I had. Only one more reason to do this.

I stood in front of the mirror, my reflection showed me the mess that I felt I was inside, but on the outside. My hair was frizzy with the heat of L.A. Only a bit, also I hadn't passed a brush on it for... A long time. I wore a long sleeved dress with soft laze caressing the skin at the top of my hands, a Ramones T-shirt over it, my flower-y black leggings and dark socks. Not that in my reflection I could see anything from my thighs down, but still. My face seemed tired, sad. Lifeless more than sad. I looked as bad as I felt. _Awesome_I thought; I decided to finally separate my eyes from my shrivelled reflection and down to the toiletry bag I was holding. I bit my lower lip from the inside, only a little, as shaky, nervous fingers took the zipper and slid it to the left, where it finally exposed the contents inside. Nervously I reached inside, the ghost of my heart drumming wildly against my chest, my lips parted, needing the flow of air to be quicker. But on the outside I looked calm. Determined.

There it was; as I felt it I felt my heart beating even faster. That small box with many blades, one twin to the next. The one that had been there for me since... A long time ago. Honestly, time was secondary for me. I didn't know it; I didn't want to know it. I had already been in this hell for a whole eternity. Only waiting for a longer one. I slid off the lid of the box, exposing what were unused blades that had gone a bit orange with time. In other times, times when I was alive, this would bother me; I could get infected if I cut with those, but... I was already dead. It's not like infection, sickness or even periods would bother me for the rest of forever.

So I took a blade.

Leaving the box beside the toiletry bag on the sink counter; the feeling of the cold metal made a small tingling feeling run from the tip of my fingers, where the blade contacted skin, all the way to my shoulder. I felt like it recognized me, like it whispered "I missed you" to me like an old friend. So inviting.

My eyes slid from the blade to my left arm, which I folded from its straight position to be able to expose my forearm. The hand with the blade moved as in on its own, removing the lazed fabric of the dress from my skin, exposing it's broken state, old scars visible as if they were only as old as weeks. But the truth was, I hadn't touched these blades for years. _Because you fucking promised_The little voice said from inside my head. Yeah, because I promised. But I was already dead when I promised. So the marks of old wounds stayed marked on my arm. I raised the blade and aligned it with the soft pale skin of my arm, just under my wrist and... Stayed in that position. I couldn't move, I just couldn't. How many times had I done this before? How many times had this helped? To an extent. Now I couldn't even move. I turned the blade in my fingers as if I were waiting for it to choose to make contact with my skin, to paint a red line across my arm. To make things better.

But it didn't. Until I forced it to. I was finally able to move, but tears had started falling, I was angry. _You promised!_ The voice said again and again. _Traitor!_ "_He betrayed me too!_" I thought in reply to the voice. _But he never broke a promise_ "_He. Broke. Me."_ and with that the voice went quiet, all there was now were the warm blood falling freely to the sink, the pain the blade had left behind it, and my tears, my sobbing, my sadness. I'd fallen again, deep, and this time I didn't care, what was a broken promise? Tate couldn't have any say in what I did. It wasn't that easy anyway. _Promise me you'll never cut again. _It's just not that fucking easy. He didn't have any say now, he didn't...

Then why couldn't I stop crying?

I'd broken a promise. I promise to the man I loved, or I thought I loved. Did I love him? _Of course you do, shithead_the voice spoke again. I cried harder, not caring that the blood was now falling to the ground, for I had fallen too. I couldn't hold myself straight, so I sat on the ground and cried, sobbed... bled.

_He's going to forgive you_ the voice told me, making my tears fall freely and unstoppable. _"I know_" I replied in my head. _Because he loves you_. "I know" I replied again, this time out loud. It made me angry. Angry at myself, but especially angry at Tate for ruining what we had, I fucking loved him.

But, I knew that was the worst part. He loved me, so he could probably look past me harming again, picking up that blade and cutting. Honestly, he'd forgive me. And why did I care so much if he did? Right, because I love him too. Or at least I thought I did.

But if I did... Then why couldn't _I_ forgive _him_?

To Be Continued.


	6. Chapter 6 Reasons

_Why would I do that?_ It repeated as a questioning loop unending inside deeply tainted mind. The one thing that remained unanswered. Why. Why would I go all the way to killing those kids from school? Why? Why, why, why. I knew why I'd done the rest. Why I'd killed the princesses, why I'd... Why I'd raped Violet's mom. Why I'd killed those strangers that had tried to harm her.

I had reasons for that.

But why had I killed those kids in high school? I couldn't remember. I remembered dinner with _Constance_ the previews night. The argument. Staying up all night doing coke. Hmm... And then sitting on my bed; full out morning, probably 3 or 4 pm, faint memories of blood and pleading faces forming a loop in my mind. I knew I'd done something, it was like a dream. And my fears had only been confirmed when the police came in the house shouting for me. And then next thing I know I'm dead. At first it was peaceful. Calm, but then I woke up in the attic, alone and cold. Wondering just what had happened. That was at least before I saw Beaou up there. Then I knew I was dead. Like Beaou. Like Nora.

_Nora. _

She was the reason I'd killed Chad and Patrick, the reason I'd raped Vivien. I'd wanted to make her happy. Nora. She wanted a baby and so I thought I could give her one. Of course I didn't think... I...

"Why did you do it?" Violet. Her voice broke me off from the tainted reverie I'd found myself trapped in. That's when I realized I'd been sitting on the kitchen, staring at the white material of the island counter, lost for hours and trying to find an answer to that same question.

Simply seeing her brought joy to my being. Complete and whole. That's how I felt when I realized my mind wasn't playing games with me, that it really was her. "Violet" That's all that had been able to leave my mouth, the voice raspy. Unused. Six months it had been. Six hell-filled months since our talk in the crawlspace. I'd heard her cry more often since that day. In her washroom, in her room, in the attic, in the crawlspace and again in the washroom. It made me wonder why. _Why? _That goddamn question seemed to like to make itself known to me.

"Why did you do it, Tate?" She said again, her voice was the mirror of anger, disappointment and pure and insatiable fury. "Why did you rape my mom?" It was like slap to the face, and I flinched and looked down. Hearing it from her lips was outrageous. I guess it made it more real. "Why?" I knew it'd taken everything inside her to confront me. To say the words that obviously sickened her so much. I could hear it in the way her voice cracked at the word "rape". I had really fucked up. "Well?" She said again. "You'd been wanting to explain, so explain."

Why couldn't I speak? It was my opportunity to. Why was I only staring at her standing on the doorway? Her beautiful features, her strong personality that yelled at me to speak up. Her clothes seemed old. And a small red stain that tainted the white fabric of her sweater.

Wait.

_No_.

"Violet" I said again, this time my voice sounded almost exactly like hers. Angry and betrayed. But it came out as a whisper. "You promised." She'd promised she'd never harm that precious silk-like skin of hers, even dead, even if she was already gone forever to an point, even if she couldn't technically die for it if she cut too deep. The red stain. Blood. Blood from a fresh and self inflicted wound. Her darkest secret. The secret for which I chose to talk to her.

"You're in no position to say that." She said as she took a few calm-looking steps toward me.

"_Why did you do it_?" We both said at the same time. Her voice sounded inpatient, mine sounded angry. And this time it came louder than a normal question. She scoffed. Angry and then she spoke.

"Don't ask questions you already know the answer to. You're smarter than that" My own words slapped right back at me. She was right. I already knew. I just hopped I was wrong. She'd done it… She'd _cut_ because of me. I didn't know what was worse. Knowing she'd broken her promise... Or knowing I had been the reason she'd broken it.

"Your turn." She said with an angry tone. She placed a hand on the isle counter and stared right at my eyes. It was the same angry, sick look she's given me the day she said goodbye. As if I was nothing but a monster. Nothing but a nightmare. "Speak up, Tate! Why?" I was looking into her eyes again. Why couldn't I- "Come on! You kept saying you wanted to explain, that you had an explanation for doing what you did, that you were sorry, so SPEAK!"

I couldn't recognize her. She was angry and now I could see in the corner of my eyes how one of her usually careful, dainty hands, rested on the handle of one of the knifes that rested on the wooden block. Sharp and dangerous. "Violet, what are you doing?" Her eyes were watering, I could see that. So clearly it made whatever was left of my heart, or ghost of one, break. "Vi?"

"Why can't you just explain? Why did you do it? Why did you rape my mom, why did you ruin the only one thing I ever believed in? Why did you hurt me? WHY, TATE? WHY?" It didn't make any sense. Tears were falling from her eyes, and her words came out as sobs. My Violet. What had I done? I'd broken her. She should've never met me. I should've stayed hidden and not said a word when I saw her fragile as she tainted her own skin red.

When did she get so angry for her to yell at me like this? I couldn't really do anything but to yell back at her in desperation, just as tears wet my cheeks. "HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO SAY I'M SORRY?" Fuck, that was too loud… "I'm sorry" I said, my voice still loud but not as loud as before. "Vi. I'm _sorry_ for everything.. I love you. I-" At first it was the shock. Then came the pain, and then all I could clearly hear was Violet's yelling. "Is that all you can say? I want an explanation for all this bullshit, Tate. I want to know _why_!" What had just happened? My vision blurred, and I could swear I felt a bit... Out of it. And then Violet and I were falling to the ground. I didn't understand what was happening. At least not until I saw the blood on Violet's smooth features. And the tears. Then I understood.

Violet had come to this house innocent. Or as innocent as a self-harming smoker could be. She knew the world sucked. She knew she couldn't do anything about it, so she took it out on herself. She would stand strong and tall if anyone bothered her, she'd threaten anyone with a pair of scissors if it meant making her point clear. But she had never killed anyone. Never. I knew the thought had never crossed her mind, not really. She'd talk about how she would kill someone if it came to defending herself. But she would never kill anyone just because she was angry... Like I would.

But now she had. I had turned her into something... This was my fault. I knew it probably didn't really count as a murder; I was already dead after all. But _she_ would consider it murder.

I could see her face, looking down at me as tears streamed down her face. The soft sobbing echoing against the empty walls of the kitchen, even the scratching of the metal legs of the stools against the floor tiles sounded too loud for my ears. Why did the stool move? Her face, her tears, her sobbing... That was the last thing I saw; the last thing I heard... before everything went black.

To Be Continued.


	7. Chapter 7  Closer

That's all I could hear. The annoying sound of my sobbing echoing against the empty walls of the kitchen; his body lying under me, my hand still on the knife and bloody; my face covered in blood too, my clothes... I let go of the murderous weapon and sat beside him; or collapsed is more like it. The stool behind me moved and the scratching of the metal legs of the stools against the floor tiles sounded too loud for my ears, almost leaving a ringing behind them. That was when it hit me. He was dead. _He's always been dead, you shithead_ the voice told me. I couldn't stop shaking and crying. Yes, the voice was right, he'd always been dead, but right now I'd killed him. I'd... Re-killed him. I knew it was possible, just as much as I knew that he'd be back in a few moments.

_I'd killed him. _

I'd seen it many times; or heard it, since I never really went outside of my room. I only ever saw it once, Hayden being killed by Moira. Or was it Nora? I think it was Nora. Fuck! I couldn't think straight, not now. Not when the man I love was lying on the floor, lifeless and bleeding behind me. Not when I knew I'd killed him. I knew it wasn't the same; killing someone who was already dead, I knew it technically wouldn't qualify as murder, but come on. _Tate_ I loved him, and he angered me and I went crazy for it. How could I have allowed myself to do that?

All I could remember in my broken state, was the blood from my arm dripping to the ground in my washroom. After the day I'd relapsed it had all been as if I had never stopped, but of course, Tate's words always echoed in my mind. _Promise me you'll never cut yourself again_. Haunting me whenever I wanted to stop feeling, whenever I wanted to stop missing him so much. I remembered feeling the anger boiling up inside me, making me lock my jaw until my molars hurt, making me grip the blade so hard that without meaning to I'd even cut my palm. I was seeing red behind my eyelids and all that I'd wanted was the answer to one question: Why. Why had Tate done all he'd done? Why had he not told me before? I didn't know if what hurt the most was the fact that he did it or that he lied to me about it. All those times I'd asked if he'd changed he'd looked me in the eyes and said yes. And he lied; he broke everything that I'd believed in, he made this hell more of a purgatory. And, so without even putting a band-aid on my brand new wounds, not like we had any, I had to use toilet paper, I pulled my sleeve down and headed downstairs. I could feel my eyes flooding with tears even before I saw him in the kitchen.

Tears that now, as I sat here in a bloodied floor, ran freely down my cheeks. It was ironic, how the question that had made me so murderously angry hadn't even been answered. I still didn't know why he'd done what he'd done.

_So much blood_ Shut up. Shut up, I know.

I didn't think it was possible, but I cried even harder, my eyes seemed to cry rivers and I didn't want to move, I couldn't even if I wanted to. I was shaking, bloody and crying. I think I'd stabbed him more than 5 times. _You're right, you've lost your shit_ the annoying voice reminded me. _Why would you do that?_ Well, isn't that what I wanted to know? No. That seemed to be the question everyone wanted answered. Tears, tears, and more fucking tears. And the sobbing, the way it echoed, goddamn. The blood had made my face, hands, and even my hair a bit sticky. I probably looked like something out from the Carrie movie. I couldn't even think of how bad Tate looked. I didn't want to look, he just lay behind me. I didn't want to look. I couldn't look, or I'd cry even harder.

I did anyway. Cry harder. And I was crying so hard, that I didn't even notice until it was too late. At first it'd been just a soft caress on my arm, then I could feel the warm touch of his bloody arms around me, the touch I'd hated to miss. Tate. I didn't want to be... I wanted... Fuck it.

I'd started to push him off, but I didn't want to. I couldn't. I'd killed him, and the sole thought of him not coming back scared me; even though I knew it was impossible for him to be gone just like that, the thought of really never having him again made me feel even emptier than I'd felt during all these years. So I let him. Hugging me from behind he cried to, kissing my head and my shoulders. _See? He forgives you_ my little voice said. _Because he loves you, he forgives you_ "Everything's okay, Vi. It's okay." Tate said, confirming what the voice had said; his voice was cracked and tear-filled, but it was there. He was there, here, with me. All I had to do was say the word and he'd be there.

Suddenly I got a sense of déjà vu. Tate and me in the same position, me crying, his arms around me as he cried along and kissed me, only that time we'd been surrounded by water instead of blood. It had been the day I'd died. The day I'd killed myself without actually meaning to. It was such a comforting feeling, that of Tate's arms around me, protecting, pleading even. He knew I could send him away at any moment, but _I_ knew I wouldn't. I couldn't. Not anymore. I couldn't stay alone anymore. He'd said sorry enough… The possibility of forgiving him felt closer than ever before. Of course I still felt sick when I thought of the reason of my mom's death, but not as sick as I'd felt the moment I'd known Tate was really gone, even for a few minutes, because of me. It just wasn't the same. And forever was a long time to hold a grudge.

I knew I couldn't forgive him now, I knew I couldn't look past everything just like that, I knew it'd take time, much more time than just a few years; I knew I probably wouldn't look at him the same way I did before... But I couldn't stay away from him anymore either. Not now, not anymore. And not for the rest of forever.

To Be Continued


	8. Chapter 8  Forever

I knew I'd deserved it. I deserved more than just the slaughter of one night on my own body. What I did not deserve was the way she had allowed herself to fall into my arms. How even after all the anger I could tell overpowered her, she didn't send me away. Of course, I knew better than getting my hopes up once more. My Violet. I'd betrayed her more than I dared admit, and yet she still rested in my arms. It had brought back a memory, one where I'd felt helpless. A night when I'd failed her, like I seemed to do so often. The night she'd died crying in my arms. Tears that had only lasted for so long before she breathed her very last living breath. She'd forgiven me that time. She didn't know my darkest crime yet. So it was different.

But still, just like that day, I'd taken her to her room. Carrying her to her bed and not caring if I spilt water on the wooden floor, only this time it was blood. When I set her on her bed she held my hand for all of 8 seconds; enough to break out a rare smile in me. Rare, at least, since Violet stopped talking to me, she didn't speak, she didn't smile or cry. She seemed tired, helpless herself, but when she held my hand it was like the world had turned around completely, done a turn in the opposite direction; what had that meant? I wanted it to mean everything. I wanted her forgiveness more than anything. But for that I'd have to speak to her.

Now, I'd changed clothes, even taken a shower. All the blood that had once been there wasn't there anymore, but still, I kneeled on the marvel floor trying to remove the stains of all the blood that'd left my body. I wasn't alone, though; Moira rested on her knees beside me. Of course I'd had to tell her what had happened, that was probably the only reason she was helping me clean; that, and the fact that she didn't want me to ruin the floors. It was incredible how surreal it all seemed as the bubbly soap mixed with the red substance. _I have to talk to her_.

"Stop that! You're going to scratch the material!" Moira said in a harsh tone, one of her old hands slapping mine away from the rag. "If you're really going to help, I suggest you listen to me" god, she was bossy. I looked at her with an apologetic glance as I let go of the rag, leaving its soapy state abandoned on the floor. Honestly, I felt like a little boy again. Being taught and scolded. I fucking hated that feeling. Non the less, I stayed quiet, part of my plan of showing Violet how she'd changed me, was to make peace with all the ghosts in the house. I'd chosen the easiest one for a start. Moira.

"I'm sorry." I'd have to get used to saying those words. I'd be saying them a lot for the next few... Years? Shit, how long could this take? I had forever anyway, what did it matter? I'd work on showing Violet how she'd really changed me _forever_ if I had to. Forever _was_ a long time, after all. Right? "I'm distracted." I admitted to Moira. Her old eyes lifted to look at me with an angry glance; when I met her eyes, I saw hers soften, if only a bit. It was something. "Can we leave this for later? I'll help you clean the whole house if you want." At this her eyes widened; they were still angry, though, her eyes. Even in the surprised way she was looking at me she seemed angry, but I _never_ stopped looking into her eyes. Maybe what I wanted to show was sincerity.

"Fine" she said. Her tone was still angry, but she had lowered her eyes to her work on the ground while she continued speaking. I never really saw Moira angry too many times; unless I was in the room. So that's why she surprised me even more with her next words. "Go do what you've got to. But I'm waking you up early in the morning" I smiled. Or at least I think I did. I was getting somewhere with Moira.

"I don't really sleep much, Moira." I said, carefully standing up from the ground and keeping my eyes on her anyway; I dusted myself off.

"Good. We can start really early, then"

I nodded and switched my eyes toward the hallway that led to the stairs. I felt my smile disappear as soon as it had come. _I have to talk to her_. I thought over and over again. And then I moved, turning my body to where the stairway was. "Okay... Later." I said, this time I wasn't looking at Moira, instead I was walking toward the staircase, leaving Moira to cleaning my blood off of the ground.

My eyes looked upward, and my hand rested on the beginning of the railing, and then I took the decision and started going up. Slowly at first, but then decidedly running all the way to the third floor. In my mind I saw the many things I wanted to tell her, the many things I wanted to ask her. Wondering if she'd respond, if she'd ignore me, or worst of all, if she'd send me away once more.

It was a risk I had to take. I tightened every muscle in my body before I could force myself to take the few hasty steps towards Violet's door. The hallway felt like it went on forever and by the time I reached her door my knuckles were white from holding my fists so tightly. I reached out with a steady hand and shook her doorknob, just barely...

It's locked.

My shoulders sank; I was not entirely sure if from relief or disappointment; probably the latter. No, it was disappointment. I mean, of course it's locked. She wants nothing to do with me. I crashed my forehead against the door and barely heard the thud it made. My left hand reached up and flattened itself onto her door. I swallowed so loud I could hear it in my ears. Why did she have to let herself fall into my arms so damn easily last night and now lock her door? Why? My palm turned into a fist and I was tempted to bang as hard as I could on the door to her room; or twist the doorknob till the lock gave, but I didn't. Instead I just backed up against the wall and samk down into a sitting position with my legs out in front of me.

I shook my head and glared at the door. I couldn't understand her, I just couldn't. First she cried in my arms after killing me, and now she didn't want to know anything from me again. I felt like I was playing a game. And it tired me. But then... A noise. A simple click that made me raise my head and widen my eyes. No way. I stared at the handle of the door in shock. My face was still cold and I could feel the burning sensation start to make its way to my eyes. I was shuffling to my feet before I could stop myself, dusting off my hands on the back of my jeans. My jaw was dropped slightly and I set my hand loosely on her doorknob again. My palms were soaked in sweat, my breath was so erratic I had to force myself to take a few deep breaths before I finally turned the doorknob, even one bit... And then it moved. I could feel the frown quickly being replaced by a smile, a hopeful smile, a smile that asked for all of this to be real and not only a dream. I couldn't believe it, even when the doorknob turned completely. And then it hit me.

Violet unlocked the door for _me_.

To Be Continued.


	9. Chapter 9  Surrender

It'd been strange; letting myself go fully into his arms. It was a strange memory, as if it had all been a distant dream, but I knew it wasn't. My bed covers were still tainted with blood; residues from when Tate laid me down on the bed covered in _his_ blood. I could still remember it, holding onto him as he carried me to my room, and even more when he let me down. I didn't want to let him go. The idea of him leaving was worse than... Well, anything. What the fuck was wrong with me? I sounded like the worst version of that teenage girl obsessive bullshit that I've ever heard. But the worst part was that it was all true. Maybe pushing Tate away wasn't such a good idea anymore. That's why I'd held onto his hand when he was about to leave. I'd been about to tell him to just lay down with me, blood or no blood, I didn't care, but the words wouldn't come out, so I let him go. It was best, after all. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea. I was still angry at him.

Or was I?

_You're not, you little Casper. _ Well, that voice seemed to know me better than I knew myself. I couldn't even understand myself now. It was bullshit. No, what the hell was I doing? Actually listening to that damn voice? _I knew you were a smart girl. Listen to me, I'm right. You. Love him._ No shit. _Be with him_. I couldn't be. He killed my mom. He raped her and- The noise of shuffling near my door had me lift my head from the pillow I'd decided to take as refuge. This time I didn't even realise I didn't have music on. But that... Shuffling; movement, I could only guess who it was. And then steps, slow and calm steps right outside my door.

"Shit..." I heard myself whisper as the faintest of frowns appeared across my forehead, but I didn't move. I breathed calmly and waited; for what? I wasn't sure, but I waited; sitting up on the bed, from the laid down position I'd been in. My eyes fixated right on the door. But then, the doorknob moved. And a small, almost silent gasp left my lips, and then another cuss. "Shit...!" as a whisper as well, when I remembered my door was locked. I'd locked it so that my mom or dad wouldn't try to barge in, in one of their attempts to hit the shit term of parent of the year by asking me what the hell was wrong with me. But of course, now, I felt stupid for even locking it. Why had I not thought Tate would come up here? It was... Pretty fucking obvious.

I did it slowly, but even as my lips parted in a nervous fashion, I got of the bed, the stains of the blood faint behind me, and I took sure steps toward the door. The fabric of my long sleeved shirt suddenly seemed to heavy, and the dress I had on top of it seemed too hot. Nerves. Yet I could swear I looked calm on the outside. I stopped walking. I couldn't move anymore. I stayed two feet, or one, away from the door, and right away I could feel the tears start to build up in my eyes, stupid curse; but I didn't cry. I just stayed quiet instead, when I heard a soft noise against the door. I didn't even realise what I was doing until I ended up feeling stupid; my hand was softly resting against the cool wood of my door, reaching for the touch I couldn't stand to miss. _Tate_.

"Goddamit." I quickly dropped my hand as I felt the usual anger build up inside me. Anger so powerful I almost didn't recognize how crazy it made me until I had hit my foot against the wall; a noise that sounded too loud against my ears. "Ow..." I whispered as low as I could. Then I automatically wondered if Tate was still out there; and I wanted to slap across the face the side of me that wished he was. That hoped Tate remained outside. I couldn't let this go on. He deserved to pay, he... I... _Just be with him! You love him!_ I heard the voice yelling inside my head again and again. Like a loop that called for the deepest attention possible. And I couldn't move. I stared at the doorknob, and, without being able to stop myself, I unlocked the door, keeping it closed, knowing I wanted to see him more than anything. The voice was right. I loved him, _so much_.

I could feel time passing so goddamn slow, it hurt. This time, the seconds themselves seemed like years. And I had almost given up seeing him; I'd even turned around, taking a few disappointed steps toward my bed once again; when all of a sudden, I heard the doorknob moving again. With widened eyes I looked up again, but I kept my back toward the door, I stopped walking, for I felt like I couldn't move. And once again I heard the noise of the doorknob moving, but this time, a small click confirmed my suspicions; he'd been out there. Waiting for me, and I'd unlocked the door for him because I wanted to see him. Then why was I still angry? Was I... Forcing myself to be angry? It was working.

But then, his voice reached me; a simple and soft calling of my name and the residues of what had once been my heart started beating as wildly as butterfly wings against the confines of my chest. And I had to turn. I needed... No, I wanted to see him. It was unfair. So fucking unfair... I slowly turned around to face him; my eyes contained the tears that wanted to escape so badly. Seeing Tate... I felt sick, happy and then sick again; what he'd done... _You saw you couldn't stand the thought of him gone, what are you waiting for?_ "_Goddamnit, Tate. Why?"_ I thought.

"Yeah?" I replied, that was all I could say. I knew I would scream in anger if I tried to speak more "_Why did you ruin this?_" I thought again.

"Can I come in?" He said in what I heard as a cautious voice, half of his body was out of the room, and I could see his stance... It reminded me to that day in the crawl space when he thought I was about to send him away.

"Why?" I heard myself saying. "What do you want?" My voice didn't come out as harsh as I thought it would be with those words; instead it sounded calm, aware. The same way it sounded when I always talked to him before. I felt so... Weird.

I could practically see the nerves growing in him, even as he took one step inside the room and closed the door behind him, he knew me well. Yet his eyes stayed on his shoes, at least for as long as, I guessed, he realised I wouldn't send him away after he closed the door. Then he looked at me. "Well... You unlocked the door, Vi. There's gotta be a reason for that."

I looked down. "Yeah." _I opened the lock, 'cause I wanted to see you. Because some sick part of me wanted to lay eyes on you again. Because I miss you, and I love you and-_ "I know." I wanted to say the words so badly. I really did, but I couldn't find it in me. I felt so helpless. What was wrong with me? Was it the sick feeling of the thought of him and my mom? Or was it the fear of letting him in again? Maybe both?

All that followed was silence for what felt like an eternity; I didn't move and it seemed like he couldn't either, but the sole feeling of him being there made me feel complete... like I wasn't alone anymore. I could hear the different arguments within myself. "_He killed my mom_." _But you love him_ "_But he lied to me_" _But you fucking love him_. "_But he hurt me_!" _But. You. Love him!_ I could already tell what side was winning. And I was about to open my lips to say something, when, once again, Tate's Voice filled the void that lay between us, his steps echoed around us as he took them, only a couple. We were less than 7 feet apart now, and I couldn't keep my eyes off of his. Especially not while he spoke. "Vi..." he started. "I've stayed away for years... just like you've asked me. Avoided you, so you didn't have to face me. I've seen you suffer... Wishing I was there to help." He looked into my eyes, and I could see the mirror of my ghostly tears making a gentle appearance upon his dark optics. "What I did... It was horrible. _Is_. Horrible... And, I did it- I did it because I wanted to help. I-I know, how that sounds." I'd started to frown, the faintest of them crossing my forehead. "But let me explain..." I stayed quiet, and I guessed he interpreted my silence as an encouragement to continue. I just didn't know what to say, so instead... I listened.

"You know Constance, right? Cocksucking worst mother of the year?" I nodded. "She was, is, a horrible mother; when we moved here... She didn't want me; she ignored me if she could. Nora, though. She, uh... She became the motherly figure I didn't know I want; since I was a kid." Where was this going? I simply stood there, unable to move even if I wanted to, I could hear the strain in his voice, it almost cracked as he seemed like he wanted to cry. "You know her now, she... She's always asking for a baby. And I wanted to give back to her, you know?" He took another step toward me and I gulped. I could feel silent tears start to fall down my cheeks as I connected the dots, thinking of what he'd said about Nora. And the baby. Ugh "I know it was wrong, but... I didn't know that until I met you. I didn't know anything else, other than death, and Nora. You changed me, Violet." At this I held myself against the metal bed frame. I didn't even realise when I'd started sobbing, all I knew was that I was slowly sliding to the ground. Tate's tears mirrored my own, but he moved quickly to kneel in front of me, looking right into my eyes, even when that's probably the last thing I wanted to do. And then he spoke again, his voice pleading. "You changed me, Vi. I'm not the same, I love you. I can't just kill anymore, I know it's wrong. I've wanted to, but I can't. Because it's wrong, because I shouldn't have done it in the first place. You changed me." His hands reached for me, and I let them. I felt the tears falling as his fingers smoothed my hair.

_He's not a bad person_ the little voice told me. And that did it. Even through the tears, I remained calm, but one of my hands let go of the metal coolness of the bed frame and reached for one of his. He seemed confused, and so was I. What was I doing? Was this right? Who knew? All I knew was that I hadn't forgiven him, I probably wouldn't for a long time, but I couldn't just ignore him either, I'd seen I didn't really made much sense without him when I killed him. No, even before. But time, time would go by and maybe one day in a lot more years I'd forgive him. Maybe; but meanwhile... I held onto his hand, pulling him softly toward me, but he didn't seem to want to wait, at least not when he understood what I was doing.

And then just like that, the distance between us disappeared, and as his lips met mine; I felt like all these years had been a nightmare, just a distant, horrible dream that would never leave my mind. But I was fine, and I wasn't alone anymore.

**I didn't ever have to be again.**

To Be Continued.


	10. Chapter 10 Love

The taste of her sweet lips seemed unreal. Impossible. This had to be a dream, simply another game of the mind, that was so tainted and broken, that it could play games on me that seemed as real as anything else. But I knew it wasn't a dream; Violet's hands were warm and gentle against my skin, the sweet touch of her palms upon my cheeks was calm, loving, even. Oh, my Violet, my Violet, my sweet Violet. How could she forgive me after what I'd done? How could she kiss these tainted lips instead of being completely repulsed by them. The kiss lasted what seemed like a short period, but I was sure it lasted longer than it felt like; I had missed her lips, her eyes, her hands. Everything about her. "Tate." She said. Her voice. Her words were calm and gentle once more, not the cold, heartless tone that had reached me in the crawlspace, or the angry, disappointed one that had been the edge of a second death for me. It was the way she talked to me before.

Her eyes watered, but across her lips was a small smile, the kind of smile only someone who knew her would see, a smile only I could see. It lasted for at least a little bit, before she spoke once more. "Tate, I can't forgive you yet." I felt my smile disappearing slowly. No. Would she send me away again? My lips had parted to speak, what would I say? Anything, anything for her to- "No, no, no." She said before she gave my lips another light kiss. "I'm not done speaking." What? I didn't want to; but I felt a thread of hope. Speak, Vi, speak. I couldn't take my eyes off of hers. "I can't forgive you yet, I'd be lying if I said the thought of all that you did didn't make me sick anymore. It does." Then why was she looking at me like she couldn't live without me? Well... She was already dead, but still. "But..." She continued. "But I also can't ignore you anymore. I just can't. I love you, Tate." Was this real? It had to be, I could feel her, see her...

"Violet.." My voice sounded exactly how I felt. Like a light had been slowly introduced into a pit of darkness. I could see around me again, I could feel. She hadn't forgiven me, how I thought she had, but she wasn't going to keep me away anymore. "Are you...?" I didn't know what to say. "Really? I don't have to stay away from you anymore?" Those were the only words that could leave my lips. One of my hands lifted from its resting place on Violet's waist to be swiftly lifted to take hers, which were so lovingly set on my cheek. And just as she shook her head in response to my question, I lowered our hands, but I never let go. Instead I pulled her toward me, slowly at first, to give her opportunity to pull away if she wanted to, but then I pressed my lips against hers once more. The thought of not having to ever be alone again, to love her... Of course I didn't want to get my hopes too high; after all, she hadn't forgiven me. What if she never did? It'd never be the same. But still, her lips responded to mine with as much love as it was possible, I could feel it. She loved me and she meant it and I didn't have to stay away anymore.

Slow, hopeful words that didn't need to be repeated, as we moved to sit on the bed; our lips still connected for a while before she pulled away; I could see her eyes speak the words she couldn't. Just as I was sure my own reflected all the many times I was telling her I love you in my mind. And even, still, a bit of doubt. Would she change her mind? Whether she did or not... We were together again. And that... That was already more than what I could ask for.

But just like that, she looked away. I could tell by her movements, and the way she stood from the bed that we'd gone a bit too far emotionally, I could recall the way she'd stood up from the ground that second week in the house, after I'd caressed her marked skin. She'd needed to speak about something else, and just like that time, she searched for something else to say today. It was something she did automatically, as if she had a meter that told her how far she'd gone and when she needed to stop whatever kind of emotion that went through her.

"Hm... I've never asked you..." She started speaking, as with a small smile she stood beside her iPod near her desk. My eyes stayed on her all the time; and I knew my lips mirrored her own smile. I guess part of me still didn't believe any of this was real. "What's your favourite movie?"

I let a small chuckle leave my lips at the same time her eyes lifted towards mine. Here we were, only a day ago we'd been on the floor crying, me bleeding after she'd stabbed me. And now all she wanted to talk about where movies. I had to look down to think about her question for a small moment. I guess I had to be careful too. "Actually..." I said with a sincere tone. "Nobody has ever asked me that." I continued, finally lifting my eyes toward hers once more, just at the same time she smiled a big smile, she was proud to ask me more stuff about me, I could tell. So I continued speaking. "I like old horror movies... Have you ever seen The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari?"

The smile that lifted the corners of her lips upwards was genuine. Beautiful, yet, I still could see the hint of carefulness creeping behind it. "No..." She leaned against the furniture and shrugged a shoulder. "But, I surely will be looking it up online now. Old horror movies are the best. The original ones from the shitty remakes they've done lately are pretty cool too." Her eyes wondered away from mine for only a moment.

"Yeah, it's silent but they dubbed some music and text to it. It's so good, you'll love it." It felt surreal, talking to Violet like this. It's as if we'd never stopped talking, like my four year hell was nothing but a hallucination or a horrible dream. It felt like a conversation we would have had a long time ago before her parents died. It felt like home. "What's yours?" I needed to keep her speaking; to keep the conversation going. Only then would I understand that this was real.

"Hmm..." The delicate way her forehead wrinkled as she thought about what I'd asked was absolutely adorable. "Uhm... The Shinning... And Beetlejuice. Classics, of course." She smirked.

"Wait. Isn't Beetlejuice the one where this suicidal girl calls some dude's name three times and then everyone ends up dancing around a table?" I could see her smile widening; I think it was for surprise. "What? I know my movies. Have you ever seen Salems lot? That shit is kind of creepy."

"Yeah!" She said as she turned around to connect her iPod thing to the electronic that worked as a speaker. Was it... Speakers, no, it was something with a "D." Dack, dock, deck! It was an iPod deck. The music started, and then she turned around to see me again. "Ever seen The Children of The Corn? Stephen King is a genius."

As she moved toward me, my eyes completely stayed on hers and a smile crossed my lips. This was still surreal to me. "No! I've actually never seen that one, I wanted to. We should watch it sometime."

"I'm thinking we should have one whole day of watching old classics." She sat in front of me again. The smile across her lips and the careful stance still in every movement she made. It would take time, getting used to her like this. To remember it wasn't a dream. "It'd be great. What do you think?"

And apparently I would have enough time to get used to her again. To believe. _We._ She'd said we. She was counting me in for stuff again. She was serious. We wouldn't be apart again, she'd forgive me some day, but meanwhile I didn't have to be away. "Yeah," I said, my voice was calm, even though inside I was screaming with joy. "Hell yeah. That sounds fucking awesome." We. Of the many scenarios I'd played in my mind on my way here, this hadn't even been possible. All this time I thought she'd send me away again. Or at least explain to me why we couldn't speak. But instead. Here we were.

_We_. My eternity of hell was over. Gone like a horrible nightmare after waking up. Gone forever. It was true.

**I didn't have to be alone **_**ever**_** again.**

To Be Continued. 


	11. Chapter 11 Worry

~*6 months later*~

It'd been strange taking Tate back. But it was also amazing. It's like, all those years I spent in confinement I'd had a huge weight pushing down on my heart. Like a rock, or something. But now, I couldn't even remember how I felt back then... Too much. All this time and we hadn't spent _one_ day apart. Except... Well, when he went off to help Moira with the cleaning. When he told me about that a few days after we started talking again, I guess I was surprised. I could see the look, full of apologies whenever he talked about someone in the house, and, of course I'd gone off to observe Moira and Tate clean together for a few moments, and the way he spoke toward her... I didn't know why I was surprised about the gentle tone he used toward her. The apologetic stance and the need to do everything that she said in a good and not so amateur way. He seemed different; I guess this was the very first time I'd been able to even see he'd actually changed like he told me. Hard to believe until you see it, right? Well, I did. And I had to say I was proud of him. Very.

I think it was month two and a half, when I told him I to sleep on my bed at night. I'd been wondering where he slept, and even though he didn't want to answer, with the excuse that I wouldn't like the answer, I could only think of so many places he could be in. I could be positive and say he was sleeping on the couch, or in an empty room, or I could be realistic and know he'd been probably sleeping in the basement, the attic, and probably the crawspace. It wasn't good. So I'd asked. And here he was; just like he had been for the past months.

I'd been awake for a while. Unfortunately I'd fallen asleep while sitting down, and it was all because I'd been watching a show on the computer. It's what I'd resulted to doing sometimes, almost never, back when Tate and I weren't talking. Sort of a distraction, but I was usually too sad to pay attention to what was actually going on the screen, and, so I'd shut down the computer and soak in my own sadness on my bed. I'd gone through a bit of a show called "Supernatural." I know; ironic, right? A ghost watching a pair of guys getting rid of ghosts. It was like the set up to a bad joke. But, again, since I was so sad all the time, I didn't really watch too much. Now, though, it was the only distraction I could find whenever Tate was out and about with Moira. I'd gone through at least three seasons, and I was still deeply entertained. What else can you do when you're dead and alone other than read and watch the television? Or... In this case, computer.

I felt a bit of movement on the bed and smiled a bit, before curiously turning around to see if Tate was really awake, or just moving. But, then he spoke. "Violet?" He said with a sleepy voice, and when I fully turned my body to face him, I felt my smile widen, if only one bit. It was strange, the way I felt like we'd never really stopped talking. Knowing that we'd been together for a while now, knowing that, even though I hadn't forgiven him for that huge thing he did; the reason I'd pulled him away in the first place, I'd forgiven him for many things already. Funny how I'd come to be happy in death instead of when I was alive. I had to smile at Tate. I didn't say a thing, though. I couldn't, my mind was just too full to make coherent words come out of my lips. But, of course; Tate knew what to say, or at least what was natural to ask. "So... Did you sleep okay? You were stilling sitting up when I fell asleep."

I had to be honest. "No, my neck hurts." I said as I tried to shift onto a more comfortable position. "I fell asleep through episode seven... I'm in serious neck pain right now."

"Aw." He shifted as well, but then before I knew it, he was sitting up. "I told you to lie down while watching that shit. Come here." His hand extended toward me, in an attempt to make me sit up. When I took his hand, a gentle pull from him had me groaning because of the movement of my neck. He simply smiled that tender smile I loved, and started moving me in a way where I could give him my back. Confused, I frowned.

"What are you doing?" I said without letting him to turn me completely. The clear light of my eyes stayed on the dark shadows of his.

"I'm rubbing your neck." His smile never faltered, and I had to smile back, if only a small smile, it was a nice gesture of him. So I turned around. This was strange.

"Thanks..." Sad how I couldn't think of anything else to say. So as his fingers pressed against my neck, relieving some of the pain I had, I let my mind wonder. This was interestingly and probably the most normal thing I'd ever done with Tate since my death; an activity that didn't require my being dead to work. But... Hang on a second... "How come can I still feel pain if I'm... well, not alive? It makes no sense." I surprised even myself when I spoke.

Tate's chuckle made his fingers have a little vibration to them that made the so called massage a whole lot better, until he spoke, at least. "It's annoying right?" His voice was calm, but I could swear I could hear the slightest note of happiness in it.

I smiled a little and let out a scoff at his question. "Understatement. Useless is more like it. What's the point of feeling pain? Our organs are dead, _we_ are dead. It just makes no sense; it's bullshit." I didn't need to look behind me to know Tate was smiling. It was like the air around us was light, even inside this house full of darkness. Come to think about it... I felt like the light that came from the window was lighter than it had ever been. "I'm curious about this house." I said out loud. "Very."

"Hmm." Tate's voice sounded a bit distracted, but then his fingers stopped moving. I felt better, it was true. So I turned around to face him; a small grin crossing my lips. "Well," he smiled at me fully. His eyes never looking away from mine. "There's a lot to figure out Violet, and you have all the time in the world."

I nodded and decided to break the eye contact we had made. That had been something I had been thinking about a lot. Truth was, even with Tate, it seemed like forever was way too long. It made me want to cry. "I want to take one day at a time." I stated, finally looking up at him again. "As if time were to end someday."

I wondered what went on in his mind. His smile never disappeared as he nodded. It's as if he was_ still_ being cautious with what he said. Even after six months. "Well... what do you want to do?" He said; breaking the silence I'd caused.

I thought about that question and then I felt a smile crossing my lips as an old, memory from some dark past reached me. "Get up from here and go look for the scrabble board that I threw somewhere in a fit of anger...?"

My eyes lifted toward his, and I had to laugh when I saw his eyes widen in surprise at my words. "You _threw_ the scrabble board?" I nodded, still smiling. "Do you know how long we're gonna have to look for those stupid tiles?"

I had to laugh again, he was smiling, and I guess the thought of a new activity together was good. But the fact that it was finding many of small squared tiles was strange. "Well," I smiled and shrugged a shoulder. "Good thing we have forever, then." My lips shifted into a smirk.

"Yeah, yeeeah." Tate shook his head, and with a smile across his lips, he moved to the edge if the bed so that he could get off of it and stand up. "I'm gonna go grab some food first; want me to bring you up something?"

"No, I'll go with you..." I got off of the bed too and walked toward my closet. I had to have something other than my pyjamas to walk around in. "What are we having?"

I could hear the shifting of clothes behind me; apparently I wasn't the only one who thought pyjamas weren't the way to go for the day. Even though his were mostly normal clothes and an old sweater. Still. "I don't know." He said behind me as I took one of my old flowery dresses from the closet. "I want... Pizza. How's that sound?"

I reached up to grab a red long sleeved shirt before I started to take my clothes off. "Sounds fast." I said, hiding behind one of the closet doors to undress. "Is there any in the freezer?"

"I think so. I don't know if Constance brought anything lately."

"Right." Finally, with my day clothes no on, I stepped out of the closet; Tate was sitting on a now made bed, with a white and green sweater on, loose jeans and converse. I simply smiled and motioned toward the door with my head. "Let's do it."

He nodded and stood up from the bed, smiling as I approached him. He reached for my hand, and the smile turned into a surprise glance. "Shit why are your fingers so cold?"

My mouth twisted a bit to the side before I spoke; shrugging a shoulder. "Because the heat in this room is shitty?" It was true. Many times I wished something could be done about the heat, then again, I liked wearing many layers of clothing. We started walking, slowly and calmly as if in a normal walk out of the house, but instead of outside, we were just walking through a hallway, when I decided to speak again. "If I didn't feel so safe in that room I'd spend my time in the living room."

Tate's hand slipped from my own and I had to look at him, at least for a moment before I felt his arm around my shoulders before he spoke. "You're safe everywhere okay?" I could feel his eyes on me. So I looked up, the smallest of smiles crossing my lips. "I'll make you some food, warm you up." He said with a smile; making whatever ghost it was of my heart beat as wildly as the wings of a butterfly.

What I noticed the most was that his skin was warm, gentle, and simply... Well, warm. "Wow... You're very warm..." I really did feel stupid now. So I looked in front as his arm traveled from one shoulder to the other before slowly lowering down my arm to take my hand again. I could swear I felt a bit of a chill going down my spine when he did that. "You know, with Hayden and Charles around I don't feel so safe..." Why had I even spoken? This is the most... Girly I'd felt in my whole life. As we went down the stairs I decided to look toward Tate, as if I was expecting him to say something.

"Hayden's a crazy bitch" he started. "But I don't think she would hurt you..." He didn't let go of my hand as we walked toward the kitchen. "Charles is crazy too but I promise I won't let either of them anywhere near you, okay?" I had to let another nearly invisible smile cross my lips.

I didn't know if it was right to feel so safe around him. But I did. I really did. "Did you know Charles asked me if he could dissect my body?" I heard myself say. What the hell? Why would I say something like that? It was totally and completely true, but why did I say it? Tate stopped walking right before we went into the kitchen. His eyes seemed angry, shocked and vengeful. It made me feel the aware feeling harder than I'd ever had it before. The familiar awareness. I continued explaining "I told him he was full of shit and to go away."

"What? When the fuck did that happen,Vi? And why didn't you tell me till _just_ now?" His tone seemed angry and surprised, why was he angry?

"Because I wasn't talking to you at the time... And it didn't seem relevant to tell you when we started speaking again." Honesty would get me everywhere, and he had to know the truth. Adrenaline pumped through my dead veins, and I could feel what once was a beating heart, beat once more with such fervour, that I was surprised it didn't pop out of its place.

"Oh..." His stance relaxed, his eyes as well, they'd been so dark I actually thought I was witnessing not Tate, but the serial killer that rested inside him. "Well it's not gonna happen again..." I didn't know if he meant Charles or himself; his tone was apologetic, maybe even tired. It felt like he was apologising for both of them. Yet, heartbreakingly he seemed ashamed. What had just happened? "I'm sorry."

I only had to look into those dark optics of his to tell me what I wanted know. He kept saying sorry for everything he hadn't done these past two months. So I decided to speak. "I know. I don't even know why I said it, let's just go get food, okay?" He nodded and let go of my hand, his smile was back in place, and it was as if that little outburst of anger didn't even happen. What _had_ happened? Did the protective side of him made him angry? Had I just glimpsed a bit of the old Tate? I didn't really know much of what had actually happened; all I knew, was that, yes, he was changing in a whole other way. But maybe, just maybe, whatever it was that had been the old Tate was still there. And I wasn't sure if I could forgive that at all. Had he really changed? Had I helped him change? Or was this all just a trick of the mind created to take him back? Whatever it was... I didn't like it one bit.

To Be Continued. 


	12. Chapter 12 Anxiety

"Hey, you think maybe at one point today we should find those tiles?" I said before I popped the last piece of sandwich into my mouth. I'd seen Violet's face change from calm to shock when I reacted to her news of Charles. I hadn't known how to react other than with anger. And that scared her. It scared me too. Even after these few months with her I still always rested with the fear of loosing her. Even though she'd reassured me so many times that she would never send me away again, I was always scared that if I did something wrong, said the wrong words, she'd just push me away again. And I couldn't have that. The worst part about it, though, was the way my fears made me so anxious that I'd act like the dark thing that had pushed her away in the first place. It was unacceptable. And, of course, acting like that only made me feel even worse because she reacted like she had today. And I'd feel anxious again, and... It was a cycle. A vicious cycle that I didn't know how to break. But still, sometimes that anxiety had me being nice to Violet more than ever. I guess it depended on the moment or the day. Like right now. What once was a beating heart, but was now only a ghost of it beat wildly as I gave her the calmest smile I could manage.

"You eat too fast." She said, sending a shock of relief inside me when she smiled that small smile she always gave me. I looked down at her plate and realized her sandwich was only halfway eaten.

I chuckled. "I suppose so. Old habits die hard." I pushed my plate away from me and looked at Vi again. Her eyes questioned me as she gave another bite to her sandwich. "When I was younger, dinners would suck. Constance would make them horrible. So I always tried to eat really fast to be able to get away from her faster." I explained as I crossed my arms on the counter, simply looking at her to push away the memories that threatened to resurface in my mind.

"Shit. I'm sorry." She said.

I smiled. "Don't be. That's the past now. It has been for a long while; I have you now. You make everything better." I uncrossed one of my arms and allowed one hand to rest on hers; her hand had been resting on the counter for a while. Her eyes, wide and beautiful, lowered to look at our hands, and I don't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I saw her smile widen the slightest bit before she looked away to finish her sandwich. She never moved her hand, though.

It was moments like these that I wish I could know what Violet was thinking. She seemed happy but sad, and then happy again, and then scared. I didn't know how to even interpret those facts. It scared me to not know, it made me feel helpless, and then anxious again. Again with the cycle.

I didn't realize I'd been lost in thought, until suddenly I got pulled off of my reverie by her sudden movements. She pulled her hand away and stood up from the stool she'd been sitting on. And without looking at me she picked up both our plates and put them on the sink. She then turned to look at me and gave me her small smile again. "Let's go, then." She said.

I jumped off of my stool and followed her out of the kitchen with a smile across my lips. We walked in silence toward the third floor of the house; we didn't even speak. It's as if we were trying to pass without calling anyone's attention. Secretive, if you will. "Hold, on. I'll do it." I said in a low voice as I saw Violet reach for the string to pull the stairs to the attic down, she turned to look at me, but didn't remove he hand from the string. Non the less, I moved fast to take the string as well. My hand over hers. We looked at each other for a few seconds, even less, before we both pulled the string down, and the stairs with it. Right at that moment, a small wooden square skipped from step to step until it stopped right at our feet. I raised my brows and Violet bent down to pick the tile up. "Z" she said with what I could interpret as a happy smile. "Ten points. Maybe this won't be too hard." she looked up at me after she spoke, showing me the small tile.

I shook my head and motioned with my hand up the stairs. "I hope you're right. After you, Miss Scrabble board thrower."

Violet rolled her eyes with that smile still held across her lips and went up the stairs. I followed right after, looking around to make sure we weren't being watched by anyone before I went up. Then, when I reached the top of the stairs, I bent down to pull the stairs back up. So that no one would come up to bother us. It wasn't like they couldn't pull the stairs down too, but still. When I stood back up and turned to look at the room my eyes widened. Violet was simply standing there with the same shocked expression I guessed I had. "Wow..." I heard myself saying. The room seemed like it had been invaded by scrabble tiles. They were everywhere, on boxes, on Beaou's bed, on the floor.

"I didn't remember it being this bad." She said with an apologetic tone.

"How did you even do this?" I stood at her side looking around the room with only my eyes.

"I kicked the board..."

"I can see that." I had to laugh a little. "Goddamn. Come on. Let's start or we'll never finish." I moved and started picking up all the little tiles I could pick up. Behind me I could hear Violet do the same.

"How many tiles are there in a Scrabble board?" she asked from behind me.

"I don't know... A hundred, I think."

"Shit, you see the board anywhere?"

I paused what I was doing and looked around. "No..." I said. "Wait." I stood up and walked toward the green cardboard box that said Scrabble in funky black letters. It was sticking out from behind a box. "Here." I turned around to give it to her, but not before tossing the handful of tiles I had inside the box.

Violet took the box and put the tiles she'd found in the box as well. And then she closed the box to turn it around, the tiles clanked against one another inside it. "Yeah, they're a hundred, exactly. I'll count how many we have now." I smiled and went back to picking more tiles. There was a silence of a few seconds, the only sound in the room was the tiles clicking against each other as Violet moved them in the box, a small whisper coming from her lips as she counted. "We have 35." She said after.

"Great. That's better than just one." I smiled. Violet started picking tiles again.

"Oh, look! Your gay porn." She said with a huge smile across her lips, a couple of magazines on her hands. I felt my eyes widen and a grin appear across my lips. I moved to where she was and took the magazines from her.

"They're probably Patrick's." I said.

"I thought you said it was hot." The smirk she showed me had my heart beating wildly again, this time it wasn't anxiety, though. She was being playful. Something she hadn't done much these past few months, and whenever she did, I felt like we were fine again, and nothing could ever come between us.

"You know I was joking, right?" I answered. But then she laughed. I set the magazines down, but I kept a wide smile across my lips. We were fine. We would be fine. I just had to calm down. Violet loved me, and I loved her. If she said she'd never send me away, then she never would. I had to trust her.

And like that, in a lighter note, a lighter feeling, we continued picking up tiles, sometimes throwing them at each other and others speaking numbers aloud while the other counted. It was playful, it was, what I guessed, a normal couple would do, and it felt great. To have her here with me after all this time, it felt right. Maybe this wasn't temporary at all.

Maybe I would finally be happy for eternity… with her.

To Be Continued.


	13. Chapter 13 Forgiveness

~3 years later~

"I want to..." Violet's voice broke the silence and the passionate and loving kiss between them as a whisper. She was sure of this, her body felt like it was on fire, but... Well, it wasn't on the outside. She could ignore it, she knew, but it was time to put the past behind. No matter how tainted it was. "Do you wanna put on some music and.. Get rid of those clothes?" she said, the unusual shyness resounding in her tone.

Tate pulled back a little bit. His eyes quickly searching Violet's for the truth he wanted to find. "Seriously?" He said, the exited childish tone taking over his vocal cords. His dead heart only beated faster with happiness when Violet's head moved in a nod and he suddenly feet already turned on by the soft way her tongue ran across her lower lip as she did so. He could see Violet's decision in her eyes. She had forgiven him. She had actually put everythin behind her, today, after so long. Today was the day. Tate smiled. "Fine, but no Morrissey. I can't consentrate on... What we're doing with that shit" Tate's voice sounded calm, even a little amused, but inside he was joyous. In his mind, the words he had once told Hayden echoed selflessly. -I'll wait forever if I have to-. That forever ended today.

Violet couldn't help but smile at his remark. She knew he didn't want to make a big deal out of it, but she knew what it meant to him. She could see it in his eyes. "Fine.." She said quickly and managed to move away from him enough to stand from the bed and walk toward her dresser where her ipod deck rested. Violet stood there, with the small ipod on her hands as she went through the songs in her ipod. "What about Nirvana? And Pink Floyd? Hm.. The Kinks and Carina Round" her eyes followed what she was doing as she added song after song. "I'm making a playlist." She said.

"Sure, just.. Not too much The Kinks" Tate smiled and led his eyes to the ceiling, resting on his back and leading his hands to rest under his head. He layed there wondering how it had been that Violet had forgiven him and loved him the way she seemed to. He didn't deserve it, he knew that, but he wasn't about to argue against it. He loved her, and he was only happy she had given him the chance to redeem himself.

"Of course. There, I put Massive Attack. And Enigma; they're cool too." She set the small ipod on it's deck and bent a little bit on her place to see what she was doing, her left hand raising to hold the stands of dirty blonde hair that threatened to block her view. And then with a swift movement she pressed play. Standing straight again and turning to look at Tate. "Done, guess what I named the playlist."

Tate's eyes left the ceiling and rested on Violet once more, the smile spreading a bit more to an amused one. "Um, I dunno. Something sexual, I hope."

Violet rolled her eyes and lifted her lips in the calmest version of a smile she could make, almost seeming as a smirk. "Hell no. What if my mom saw my ipod? Or my dad. No, I named it 'The Stars' for obvious cheesy reasons" Her eyes rolled once more. She hated admiting to shit like that, but it was true. She leaned a bit against her dresser, only to make sure her playlist worked the way she wanted it to, but really, she was just using that excuse to prolongue the moment, the truth was that the ghost of what once was her heart was beating wildly. She was nervous. It was as if it were her first time again. And in a way it was. Her first time after all the bullshit that had happened. Nerves were something she could hide well, though. And she did, making her stance seem like something completely normal even at a moment like this.

"Why are you so fucking adorable?" Tate said, moving on the bed to lie on his side and rest his head on his hand. "I love you." His smile grew when Violet's lips curved the tiniest bit in responce. "Come on." He said before she could say anything, his eyes never left her, it was almost as if he were scared that she'd disappear, but he knew better now, he'd never let her go again. "Turn up the volume and let's go."

"I'm not." Violet said with a shake of her head and an amused smile crossing her lips. She knew she had sound really cheesy, but adorable? Not ever. The song changed in that moment from "Come As You Are" by Nirvana to "Angel" by Massive Attack, and in that moment Violet nodded, her playlist worked. She bent over again for a moment as she rose up the volume of the music. When she stood straight again and started walking toward the bed it was as if her brain had just processed the rest of Tate's words. "Wait.." With a small confussed frown on her forehead she sat close to Tate on the bed, allowing herself to ask "Go?" She said as she lay beside him, never taking her alluring clear eyes off of his dark endless optics. "Where are we going?"

Tate smiled that smile that made Violet's heart, dead or alive beat wildly; that smile that let her know he was about to say or do something that would leave her breatheless. She parted her lips a bit to let the air flow quicker. But Tate moved, only gently to lie on top of her, looking down at those eyes he loved, his lips barely inches from hers as he spoke. "To the stars, of course."

And like that they kissed, caringly and lovingly at first and then passion joined them both as their clothes left their bodies; all the past foegiven, all the lies, the pain, the sorrow, all gone. Even the endless forever seeming less haunting to both of them than the way it had seem when they weren't talking. Things were perfect once more as they made love again after all those years, happy, in love, and most important of all... Together forever.

THE END.


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